


Territorial

by phantisma



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bloodplay, Bondage, F/M, M/M, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-13
Updated: 2009-11-13
Packaged: 2017-12-04 03:20:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/705930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phantisma/pseuds/phantisma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During Sam's senior year of high school, Dean comes home after a night out and he isn't completely himself.  He's sick...but when Sam calls their father to come home and help, he discovers that what's inside his brother isn't some virus, and what it wants isn't just Dean.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Sam heard his brother stumble in somewhere around four and rolled over, pulling the blanket over his head. The last thing he needed or wanted was to have to listen to Dean's drunken rambling about whatever sexual conquest he had made the night before.

"Sammy, you awake?" Dean's voice was raspy and wet sounding.

When Sam didn't answer, Dean stumbled closer, falling onto the bed behind Sam. "Sammy." His hand touched Sam's arm, and it was hot. Sam rolled onto his back and squinted up at his brother.

He looked like shit, dark circles under his eyes, his face slick with sweat. "You okay, Dean?"

"Don't feel so good Sammy."

Sam lifted his hand to Dean's face. "You're burning up." He sat up. "You should lay down. I'll get you some aspirin."

Dean groaned and laid back onto the bed. Sam went to the bathroom and came back with a glass of water and a bottle of aspirin. He doled out two and handed them to Dean before turning his attention to his brother's shoes.

"My god, Dean, where were you? These are covered in mud." In fact, the mud went nearly to Dean's knees. Sam got the boots off and tossed them toward the door. "Okay, let's get these wet jeans off you." Sam reached for his zipper, and Dean grabbed both of his hands, his grip bruising. Sam looked up.

Dean's eyes were wild, his nostrils flared. "Sam?" His voice was all the rougher, deep in his throat.

"Dean?" Just as suddenly, Dean let go, though he didn't ease back down. "You're sick. Let me help." Sam got him unzipped and pulled the jeans down. His boxers were soaked through, though Sam wasn't sure if it was some sort of water he'd gotten himself into or sweat from the fever. "Okay…these have to go to." He reached a little more cautiously for the boxer's waistband. Dean didn't grab him again, but he kept staring.

Sam eased the boxers down and threw them toward the door with the boots and the jeans. Dean was hard when Sam turned around, his hands cupping his cock. Sam averted his eyes, but that just led them to the bruises on his brother's thighs…bruises and…bite marks? Sam leaned in closer, his finger lifting to trace the outline of what seemed to be human teeth.

The bite nearest him had broken skin and was crusted over with dried blood. "Dean, can you tell me who did this?" Sam looked up at him, but Dean's eyes were nearly shut and he grunted as he pulled on his cock. Sam knocked his hands away and shook him. "Dean, can you hear me?"

Dean growled, grabbing Sam and rolling them so that he was on top, straddling over Sam, his cock digging into Sam's thigh through the thin barrier of his boxers. Sweat dripped from his face and his hands clawed at his shirt trying to get it off. It ripped after a few seconds, exposing Dean's chest. It too was marked with bruises and bites and scratches, like he'd been mauled by an animal…except the teeth seemed human.

"Dean, I need you to listen." Sam could feel his heart racing and he tried to keep his voice calm. "What happened?"

Dean was breathing harshly, through his nose and mouth, his eyes hazy as he ground his hips against Sam. "Fuck." He forced the word out, shaking his head. "Sam." He pulled up, his head back. "Woman…woods…" He shook his head again, like he was fighting to clear it. His hand slid up to a bite mark just over his chest. "Got away…help me Sammy."

Sam nodded, pushing himself up on his elbows. "I'm trying, okay, Dean?"

Dean's fingers scratched at the bite mark, coming away bloody. "They bit me Sammy."

"They?" Sam tried to push himself up, but Dean wasn't budging and all he managed to do was rub his brother's cock with his leg. Dean hissed, moving so that his cock slid under the cotton of Sam's boxers.

"Tried to make me their pet Sammy." Dean's lips curled as he began grinding again, his cock sliding along Sam's leg.

"Dean, stop." Sam pushed on his shoulders as Dean grunted, but his skin was so slick with sweat, Sam's hand slid off him, and Dean pressed down. Sweat dripped from him, slicking Sam's skin. A salty drop splashed onto his lip and Sam renewed his efforts to get Dean off him. Several more drops landed on his face, and Sam slammed his mouth closed after several of them got into his mouth, lacing his tongue with the taste of salt. "Dean!"

His body stiffened and Sam felt a flush of heat bathing his thigh and slipping over to coat the base of his cock. Dean reached between them, cradling his cock as he pulled away, then staring at the mix of come and blood on his hand. "Sammy…" His voice was shattered, his eyes rolling back as he started to fall.

Sam grabbed at him, taking his sticky hand full in the face. He got Dean safely onto the bed, unconsciously licking his lips as he felt something on them. More salt, and the copper-tang of his brother's blood. "Great. Disgusting." He used his arm to wipe his face and climbed out of bed, over Dean.

Dean was out cold, shivering despite the heat still radiating off his body. Sam pulled the blankets up over him and reached for the phone to call his father. "Dad, it's Sam. Dean's sick. He mumbled something about a woman and woods, but his fever's really high, so he's probably delirious. Call me."

He huffed and headed for the shower, because he was not explaining to his father why he smelled like sex. He knew his father had brought down one werewolf just a few nights before, but he was hunting still because it wasn't a full moon and the news had said there had been another attack anyway.

It had his father baffled.

The victims were all missing their hearts, all of them torn up like a wolf attack, only what was left after the heart was taken looked as though more than one dog had been involved. If this was a werewolf, it wasn't like anything they had ever hunted before.

Which made him worry a little more about Dean. Werewolves turned people by biting. Sam finished his shower fast and went back to the bedroom to pull on pants. Dean was tossing in his sleep, the fever and sweat making his face look ghastly pale.

Sam sat beside him and used the towel he'd brought with him to wipe Dean's face. His eyes opened suddenly, their normal green shot through with amber and gold fire. He sat up, grabbing Sam's face in an iron grip and he looked like he was about to kiss Sam, and not in a friendly, brotherly way.

Dean growled, baring his teeth, making the noise sound almost like a word, almost like a claim of _mine_. Sam tried to pull away, but Dean's grip was tight, his hands hot. Sam almost felt like the fever in his brother was trying to burn its way into him through his skin.

Behind him, the door crashed open and he could hear his father yelling his name. Dean was startled enough that Sam pulled away, aided by his father's hand on his neck, yanking him back from Dean. "Did he bite you?"

"What?" Sam blinked up at him and shook his head.

"It's important Sam." His father's eyes were filled with fear.

Sam shook his head again. "No…no…he just…he's sick…"

John nodded and pushed Sam out of the room. "I'll deal with him, you go get ready for school."

"School? Dad--"

John strong armed him when Sam tried to push back into the room. "Let me help."

"You can help best by doing what I say." John responded. "I need to check him over, and I need to…" He closed his eyes. "Please Sam. I don't want to argue."

Sam took two steps back and his father closed the door. He stood in the hallway staring for a long time, listening to his father's voice. He was afraid.

John Winchester was afraid. Sam was shaking when he finally made himself move. He went to his father's room and pulled a shirt out of his closet and a pair of socks out of his dresser.

He was just leaving the room when his eyes fell on an envelope. It had Sam's name on thick, ivory stock. The top left corner was filled with a logo. Stanford.

Sam's heart stopped. His hand hovered over the envelope for a minute, then lifted it. Someone had opened it, read it. His father had hidden it.

Sam headed for the kitchen. He put the letter down on the table and made coffee, then got cereal out of the cupboard.

Stanford.

He ran a finger over the envelope. It was stationary quality. The good stuff.

He hadn't told Dean or his father about his applications. He'd agonized over this one. The guidance counselor at the school had helped, insisting that Sam could get in. Sam had figured she was wrong when he hadn't heard from them. He'd already heard from the others he'd applied to.

His father must have picked up the mail the day it came in.

He held the envelope for a long time before pulling out its contents. His hands shook as he opened the paper. His eyes skipped over the cover letter. Accepted. Scholarship. Honor to have such a fine student.

Sam sat to eat, torn between concern for his brother and anger at his father. His eyes darted over the letter repeatedly, his anger and worry mixing and growing.

It was nearly a half hour later that John came into the kitchen, rubbing his face and making for the coffee pot. He sighed as he glanced at Sam. "I sedated him. I need to…research. Need to figure out what this is."

"He said a woman took him into the woods." Sam said, getting up to put his bowl in the sink. "He was really out of it, but he said, 'they bit me' and something about trying to make him their pet."

John sipped at his coffee, his eyes dark. "Some sort of pack." He inhaled. "They behave like werewolves in a lot of ways."

"But you said yourself, it's three days past the full moon."

"I know." He drank from his coffee. "Sam…"

Sam shook his head. "Don't. Dean is going to be okay." He had to be okay.

"No, Son. I don't think he is." His father turned away as he said it. He was quiet then, his back to Sam.

Sam left the envelope and its contents on the table and started out of the kitchen. "Don't go near Dean." John said suddenly.

"My books are in there. I have to return them before I start my English final." Sam said, his voice tight. He didn't wait for his father to respond, just headed down the hall.

He stopped just inside the door. Dean was tied down, tossing, moaning like he was in pain. Sam stepped toward the bed and his eyes snapped open. Dean licked his lips and struggled with the ropes holding him down.

"Dean?" He seemed to settle with the sound of Sam's voice. His eyes closed and when they opened they seemed calmer.

"Sammy…cold."

Sam reached for the blanket over the end of the bed. "Here." He pulled it up over his brother, sitting lightly next to him. "Better?"

Dean nodded, his eyes searching the room. "Dad?"

"Kitchen."

There was fear on Dean's face. "He's going to kill me, Sam."

"No. No." Sam wiped his face. "I won't let him."

"I'm changing Sam. I can feel it. It's inside me. They did something to me."

"It's just the fever Dean. You're sick."

Dean shivered. "Stay with me. He won't kill me if you're here."

"No one's going to kill you Dean. I'm not going anywhere. You need to sleep, okay?" He brushed a hand over his brother's face. Dean turned his head, his lips brushing Sam's wrist.

"Love you Sammy." His eyes were already closing as Sam pulled his hand away.

"I love you too, Dean." Sam shook his head and stood. He grabbed his books and headed out, running into his father who was holding the letter.

"You should go." Sam looked at his father's face as he shoved the letter at Sam.

"What?"

"I called them, explained that the letter got lost. The spot is still yours. You should go."

"Dad--"

His father's cell phone rang and he stepped away to answer it, leaving Sam standing in their dismal living room with the letter…and everything he'd ever wanted offered to him on thick paper, while his brother lay in the room at the end of the hall…probably dying.

 

 

The day dragged by Sam, who alternated between watching the clock and watching his phone surreptitiously under the desk. He was done with his test, but had at least another five minutes before he was allowed to get up. His father hadn't called to tell him how Dean was…and that couldn't be good. They'd been expecting Bobby since the night before. It had been three days and there had been nearly no change in Dean's condition. The only time he seemed coherent was when Sam sat with him.

Sam watched the big hand on the clock click forward and lurched up, grabbing his test and taking it up to the teacher at the front of the room. He bolted from the school, not even stopping at his locker. He ran most of the way home and around the beat up mustang parked in front to burst into the front door of the house.

He could hear voices and followed them to the bedroom.

"No Bobby."

"I ain't saying you gotta be the one, John."

"We don't know."

"Pretty damn good guess. Look at him."

"You are not killing my boy on a guess."

Sam shoved the door open, ending the argument. "How is he?"

"It ain't good." Bobby said after a few minutes of silence.

"Do you know what did it?" Sam's eyes raked over Dean on the bed. The fever seemed to have gone. He was sleeping restfully.

"It's a werewolf Sam…a rare breed of wolf." Bobby set a hand on his shoulder. "Took me two damn days to find the references."

Sam shook his head. "You're wrong." He pushed through them. "If it were a wolf…" He shook his head again. "You're wrong."

"Wish I was, kid." Bobby responded, though he didn't pull Sam back when he went to the bed.

"He's better." Sam said, touching Dean's hand. "Fever's gone."

"This breed forms packs. Usually one alpha male to five or so wolves. The alpha eats the heart. The rest of the pack takes what they can get when he's done."

"Bobby thinks the first one I killed was their alpha." John said. "He thinks the rest of the pack did this to Dean."

"They didn't kill him." Sam frowned up at his father.

"I think they were making him their new alpha, Sam." Bobby sighed and rubbed over his beard with one hand. "The references are obscure, and hard to translate. The alpha can make new wolves, but an alpha can only be made by the pack."

Sam turned to look up at him. "How?"

Bobby shrugged. "Don't know exactly. The one book I have isn't exactly forthcoming with the details. I know one bite doesn't do it."

Sam closed his eyes. He didn't want to hear any more. Dean's body was covered in bite marks. At least ten of them. He wouldn't believe it. "So what you're saying is that you don't know anything for sure." Sam stood, his face flushing with anger. "You don't know how they turn, you don't know **if** they turned him. You don't know anything."

"I know that silver puts them down, just like other shifters." Bobby said, his face flushed too. "I know that you do not want to be in this room when the wolf comes tearing through his skin."

"Bobby!" John grabbed at him, pulling him away from Sam.

"I'm sorry, John." Bobby turned on his heel and left the room. Sam stared at his father until he too turned and left the room.

Sam sat back down on the bed, surprised to find Dean's eyes open and looking at him, calm and green and normal. "Dean?"

He smiled and nodded. "Yeah. You okay?"

Sam shook his head. "Me?"

"You know Bobby's right."

Sam felt tears burn in the corner of his eyes. "No. I don't."

"I do." Dean's fingers rubbed on Sam's hand. "I know what I am, Sam." He swallowed and looked away. "I can feel what it wants. I…I want it too."

Sam took his hand, swallowing hard. "You're better already Dean. The fever's gone."

"The fever was my body fighting the infection. The fever's gone because it lost the fight."

"Don't say that." Sam looked up at him.

"You're going to have to let me go."

"No."

"You wouldn't say that if you knew what it wanted." Dean looked away, a flush of shame creeping over his face. "It wants you Sam. It wants to own you. It wants to make you belong to us." Dean was looking at him now, his eyes starting to turn gold. "I can smell me on you…I'm inside you Sam. It wants me to finish the job…wants me to rip these ropes and force myself inside you, wants me to fuck you Sam…bite you, kiss you…mark you…make you a part of my pack."

Sam sat back, pulling his hand away. He stood, his whole body trembling. "Dean stop."

There was a tearing sound and Sam whirled, just in time to be pressed into the wall by Dean. A low growl rumbled through him, his teeth barred as one hand grabbed Sam's throat. His mouth closed over Sam's in a brutal kiss.

Sam's entire body thrummed with fear and arousal and shame at both and he pushed at Dean ineffectually. "Tell me you don't want me to do it, Sam." Dean's voice rasped in his ear. "Tell me you don't want this."

"Dean, please." Tears slid down his face and Dean leaned in, licking them up.

The door burst open and Dean roared in fury. "You're mine Sam. Mine." Dean let go of him then, charging at the door. He knocked Bobby backward and shoved past their father, his body shifting as he ran.

Glass broke somewhere and Sam sank to the floor, shaking. His brother was gone.

 

 

 

 

He left the library juggling more books than he'd had when he come in, trying to get them all to fit in his backpack. He didn't look up until he was nearly at the bottom of the stairs and when he did, he stopped, blinking several times.

His father looked a lot older than three years should have made him. His hair was shot through with gray and his eyes were dark, tired looking. He smiled vaguely at Sam and lifted a hand as he stood up from where he'd been leaning against a black truck that had seen better days.

Sam didn't know how to react. The last time he had seen John Winchester, it had been over the barrel of a gun.

"You're looking good, Sam."

Sam took a deep breath and swallowed the knot of bile and fear that was rising on him. "Dad." He took a few steps, squinting in the late afternoon light. There were scars, a long slash on his forehead, three claw marks down over his left eye and nose. "You look like shit."

He nodded wearily. "I know."

Icy dread filled him when his father looked away. Dean was dead. His father had come to tell him he had finally found him and put him down. He shifted nervously.

"Get in." John hooked his thumb at the truck, but Sam didn't budge.

"No." He shook his head when his father looked up at him. When John stopped and turned back, Sam shifted his backpack. "I have studying to do."

"It's about your brother. Get in."

His father didn't look this time to see if Sam did as he was told, just got into the truck. Sam contemplated not getting in, but exhaled heavily and opened the door. The engine roared to life and his father pulled away from the curb as Sam shut the door.

"So…how's school?"

Sam sighed and looked at his father. "Fine. I thought this was about Dean."

He nodded. "Yeah." His hands tightened on the steering wheel.

"Is he dead?"

The truck was silent for a long time, then John sighed and shook his head. "No, Sam. He isn't." The truck turned down a tree lined street and stopped outside the apartment Sam was sharing with his girlfriend.

Sam was a little surprised that his father knew where he lived. "He's here, in the area."

Sam frowned. "Why?"

"He stole my car, and he found out that you came here from paperwork he found in the trunk. He's looking for you."

"Me?" He was starting to feel very behind. "I thought you and Bobby were going to "handle him"…and he was never going to know where I was because if was too dangerous and how the fuck do you know where I live?"

"Calm down."

"Calm down? Is that all you've got for me?" Sam opened the door of the trunk. "Thanks for the ride. Go to hell."

John was out the other side and circling before Sam even got half way up the sidewalk. "Listen to me Sam, this isn't like any werewolf you've ever read about, Okay? He's single minded and territorial and he's smart."

"He's Dean, Dad. Of course he's all of that."

"You don't understand."

"Then fucking explain it to me."

"I'm trying."

"Yeah well, don't quit your day job. You suck at this." Sam pushed past him but stopped short when his father reverted to Marine voice.

"Samuel Winchester would you stop and listen to me for once in your goddamn life?"

Sam turned, dropping his back pack to the ground.

"Can I come in? I'll tell you everything I know."

He wanted to say no. He wanted his father to leave and never have to know what his brother had become. "Fine. But Jessica's here. Not a word until she leaves for class."

He went to the door, opening it slowly. "Jess, hon. I'm back."

"With half the library I imagine." Jess came out of the living room, all smiles, kissing his cheek. "You have company."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Yeah, um Jess, this is my Dad."

Her eyes widened and she glanced back into the living room. "Ah, no, I meant…your brother is in the living room."

Sam jumped toward the living room. Dean stood from the couch, smiling. "Hey Sammy, did you miss me?"

Their father was right behind him, a gun in shaking hands. Dean held up his hands, his eyes darting from Sam to John to Jessica. "Whoa there, Dad. Just came to visit my baby brother."

"I know why you're here Dean." John replied, the gun wavering.

Sam turned to Jessica, turning her back toward the kitchen. "Just…family stuff, Jess."

"Your father—"

"He's just grumpy. Why don't you…get out of here, let me sort this out."

"But he has a gun, Sam."

"I know. He won't use it though. It's going to be fine." He kissed her cheek. "I'll see you after your class, okay?"

He watched her go, though she looked spooked. He came back to the living room. Neither of them moved. "I figure we've got a fifty fifty chance she calls the cops."

John and Dean stared at each other.

"Nice girl you got there, Sammy." Dean said as Sam moved past their father into the room.

"It's Sam, and you just keep your distance from her."

"Oh, I see I'm not the only territorial one in the family." Dean flicked his eyes at Sam, a hint of gold in their green. "I didn't know you got into Stanford Sam, I'm proud of you."

"I didn't know you were still alive, I'm surprised."

"Not that the old man hasn't tried, right Dad?" Dean said, grinning. "Him and Bobby both. Nearly had me in Tennessee couple months back. That's when I found out you were here. Decided to come visit."

"Dad, put the gun down." Sam shook his head. "You're not killing him. Not here, not today."

"He's a fucking werewolf, Sam."

Sam stepped between them. "Yes and you’re an asshole, Dad. Put the gun down."

"He's killed innocent people."

"No, I haven't." Dean interjected.

Sam pushed the gun down.

"I've seen the bodies." John stared at Dean. "I've seen what you and your pack leave behind."

"What pack? You killed all of them." Dean was bristling with anger, his eyes flashing. "Talk about killing the innocent."

John snorted. "Innocent? That's rich. I've seen—"

"Have you?" Dean took a step closer. "Have you really? They were good people, Dad. They were victims and I gave them the power to strike back." Dean's eyes were filling with gold and he looked at Sam. "The last guy, the one in Tennessee? He was a rapist. He preyed on young women, tortured them, sodomized them, forced them to do things to one another. When we found him, he was already kidnapping another one."

"He was human." John countered, though his resolve seemed less concrete than it had been a moment before.

"Was he?" Dean shook his head. "He was a monster."

Sam stood between them, not sure what to say or do.

"And so am I. I get that." Dean turned his back to both of them and walked back toward the couch. "I am everything you've learned to hate since Mom died."

"I don't…" John shook his head.

"I just wanted to see Sam." Dean said softly. "I miss you. I…I'm alone. And I just…"

Sam turned to their father. His hand slid down John's arm to the gun in his hand, taking it from him. "I'll be fine. Go on. I want to talk to him."

John shook his head. "You don't know what he is."

"I'm going to have him tell me. I'll keep the gun. Dean won't hurt me, right Dean?"

Dean turned around and Sam could swear there were tears in his eyes. "You have my word. I won't lay a finger on him."

The weight of the gun filled his hand and Sam nodded. His father's eyes met his. "I won't be far away."

Sam pressed his lips together. "Go."

John backed out of the room, not turning until he was nearly to the front door. Sam exhaled and turned to Dean. "That's quite the act."

Dean wiped his eyes and shrugged. "Meant every word."

He sat on the edge of the couch, his eyes on Sam.

"The last time I saw you, you tried to kill me." Sam moved to the chair. He sat a little uneasily, the gun on his knee.

"No…it wasn't about killing you." Dean shook his head.

Sam raised an eyebrow. "What then?"

Dean fidgeted a little. "I was trying to…" He exhaled. "Mate…with you."

"What?" Sam jumped up again, frowning so hard his face hurt. "You were serious about that? I thought you were trying to scare me."

He remembered the way Dean looked at him, how his words burned inside him. He remembered how his body wanted what Dean was going to take. His face flushed. "You wanted to scare me enough that I'd be okay when Dad—"

"No, Sam." Dean didn't move, and his voice was low, but Sam could feel him as if he were right there, just like then, pressing into Sam. "I…when I came home, I was already changing. It was already inside of me and I was acting on its instincts, not mine. I marked you."

Sam swallowed as he felt it again, the slide of his brother's cock against his skin, the flush of his come. "Remember, Sam? You tasted me." Dean's voice was lower still, husky and deep.

Sam remembered the salt of his sweat on his tongue, the taste of copper and come from his hand. He brushed a finger over his lips. "You kissed me."

Dean nodded. "Marked you. Blood, sweat, come, spit."

Sam shook himself out of the memory. "I remember it was disgusting." He paced, watching Dean out of the corner of his eye. He wouldn't admit that it was arousing too…that he sometimes dreamed about where it might have gone. "I remember being scared for you. I remember being scared of you."

Dean jumped up, crossing the room fast, crowding Sam into the wall. "No, never be afraid of me Sam. I'd never…just no."

"You're doing a pretty good job of scaring me right now." Sam held the gun between them, his hands shaking. Dean grabbed the barrel of the gun and held it to his chest.

"Here, right here. Nice and close. It'll be over." Dean closed his eyes, holding the gun tight to him.

"Stop."

"No, do it." Dean opened his eyes, stared into Sam. The gold flecks grew, slowly taking over his eyes. His nostrils flared. His mouth opened. "You smell like her. She's all over you." He leaned closer still, the gun pressing into him as he sniffed up Sam's neck.

Abruptly, he took a step back. He ran a hand over his face and pressed the other to his groin, like he was trying to contain an erection. "I'm sorry." He walked away. "Maybe I should go. I came so I could explain."

"Don't." Sam exhaled and stepped away from the wall. His whole body rang with need, with want, with the sense of Dean that filled the room. "I…I want to hear it from you. Not Dad."

At first he didn't think Dean would stay, but he nodded slowly and went back to the couch. "Okay. The first thing you should know is that Bobby was right, I'm not like…other werewolves, the ones Dad's hunted before. I don't need the full moon to change, I can control it…somewhat. Though the full moon makes it harder and pain sometimes brings it on. When Bobby got a shot into me in Reno, that got ugly. Barely got out of sight before it happened."

Sam moved back to the chair and sat, crossing his legs and hoping Dean hadn't seen the reaction his desire had had on him. "Bobby shot you?"

Dean shrugged as he sat back. "We sort of bumped into one another…hunting the same bastard I think. He wasn't packing silver, thankfully. I got away with a through and through in my thigh."

"Hunting?"

Dean made a face at him like he was an idiot. "What? You think I'd stop hunting just because a bunch of whack jobs jumped me in the woods one night?" He shook his head. "So…we come from a line of wolves that originated in the arctic. The story's a little fuzzy, and the reasons for the differences aren't clear. We tend to run in packs, small ones. Live mostly normal lives, though there's the need for…feeding." He looked disgusted at the thought and wiped his hands on his thighs as if it were distasteful. "And…the alpha of the pack needs…a partner."

"A mate?" Sam asked, tightening his grip on the gun again.

Dean nodded. "When I had the pack, the need wasn't as bad. I could…you know…with them." He smirked a little. "See now, there's some fun…five little minxes, and the…" He looked up at Sam. "Sorry. It took the edge off."

"But your pack is gone." Sam said. "Dad killed them?"

Dean nodded. "The pack that turned me…they were worthless. The guy Dad killed was a moron. He turned hot chicks so he could bang them. They were gone fast. Dad, some other hunter when we hit Las Vegas. By the time I got to Texas, I was alone again."

"So you built your own?"

Dean stood, his turn to pace. "I found a girl. She was a runaway, seventeen. She'd been beaten, raped, thrown away. The guy she was with pimped her out and I found her crying in an alley. She was my first."

"You killed the pimp?" Sam didn't look up from the gun, afraid of what he would see when Dean answered the question.

"Yeah. We did." Dean stood near the bookshelf, running his finger along the tops of pictures of Jessica and Sam. "Andi…she was a good kid, Sam. She just never got a break. Once we were away from there, she just shined. She was smart, focused. She found us the next one. Adam…" Dean scratched at his head. "He was trapped, his father hurt him, his brother gave him drugs."

Every line of Dean's body was taut with anger. Sam could feel it from across the room. "Then came the one in Tennessee. She was the victim of a serial rapist. The police knew who he was, but couldn't touch him because he never left any evidence. He trapped the girls, tortured them for weeks, raping them over and over when he wasn't cutting into them or beating them…and when he was done, he just dumped them in some park. Most of them died after he let them go."

Dean turned around. The gold was rising in his eyes again. "We killed that son-of-a-bitch cold. That's when Dad caught up to us again. Took Adam first. We scattered."

He closed his eyes. "By the time I found my way back to the girls, he'd plugged them both with silver. I tracked him down…well the car anyway. Always did want the car. I took it. Two states later I was rummaging through it and found a box with your acceptance letter and your address scribbled on a note."

"And here you are." Sam licked his lips as Dean took a few steps toward him. "Why?"

"Can't a man just want to see his brother?"

"A man? Yeah. I'm not sure you qualify." He cringed inwardly. He didn't really mean the barb…the anger wasn't fully justified. None of this was Dean's fault.

Dean inhaled and nodded. "You're probably right. I should go."

Sam wasn't sure he wanted him to go. He wasn't sure of anything right that minute. He wanted his brother back and he wanted his quiet, normal life. And he was pretty sure that he was never getting either. "You said you…were trying to mate…that you need one."

"Like I said, an alpha with a pack can get by without one, but the urge is strong, especially when the pack is gone."

"Right now?" Sam shifted uneasily, the feeling of his brother pushing him into the wall flooding him, the desire that welling up in his stomach.

"I'd be lying if I said no." Dean admitted.

"I'm still your brother." Though Sam was beginning to wonder if that would really matter, if Dean chose to push. "And last I knew, you weren't gay."

"I'm not sure the wolf cares. From what I can tell it wants someone strong, someone my equal physically, someone who can help guide the pack." He smiled wryly. "You gotta admit Sam, that's you."

Dean walked away again. "I'm not saying it's right, and I know you don't want it and believe me if I could walk away I would. But I had to see you. I felt…something that day…when I had you against the wall. I needed to know if I was right."

Sam felt his stomach tighten. It was all too much to take in all at once. He pushed himself up out of the chair and crossed to Dean, looking into his eyes. He searched them for truth, for a sign Dean was spinning him. He didn't find anything staring back at him but his brother. "I need you to leave. You found me. You told me your story. And I need some time to think about it before I know what I feel."

Dean nodded slowly and pulled something from his pocket. "I trust you Sam. I'm giving you the address where I'll be. If you give this to Dad, he'll come kill me in my sleep. Hell, for all I know you will. But if I'm going down, I'd rather it was one of you. I'll be there a few days. My phone number's on there too."

Sam took the paper and tucked it in his own pocket. "You know he's out front waiting."

Dean grinned. "I'm fast." Suddenly his eyes shimmered gold and his body changed. Where Dean had stood was a large white wolf with gold eyes and huge teeth, and he still managed to seem to grin up at Sam before he ran to the door.

Sam heard shouting and then his father was slamming into the apartment. Sam held up both hands. "You just let him go?" John asked, his tone filled with accusation.

"What did you expect?" Sam held the gun up. "I wasn't going to kill him."

"One of us has to."

Sam exhaled and rubbed his forehead. "Maybe."

"Maybe? What the hell is wrong with you? I raised you better than that."

Sam shoved the gun at him. "Dean raised me Dad. You just hauled us around from place to place."

His father gaped at him for a few minutes before Sam sighed. "Besides, you're the one who said I wasn't a hunter. You're the one who sent me away and told me not to look back."

"That was before I knew he would come for you." John reached out for him, but Sam pulled away. "Sam, he wants to turn you."

"I know." Sam crossed his arms, suddenly cold. "He told me." He wasn't about to tell his father everything Dean said. If John Winchester wanted to kill his oldest son now, it would only be worse if he knew. "I've known that since that day, when he turned."

"I've already lost him. I don't want to lose you too."

"I'm not going anywhere. Except to my room to study. Finals are coming. You're welcome to the couch." Except for how he'd have to explain suddenly having family to Jessica.

"What about Dean?"

"I told him to go. He left. What more do you want from me?"

"What if he comes back?"

Sam shook his head. "Honestly, I don't know. Beer's in the fridge, help yourself." Sam grabbed his backpack off the kitchen floor and headed into the bedroom he shared with Jessica.

He dropped his backpack on the bed and groaned. He'd come so close to normal he could taste it. He crossed to the dresser and opened a drawer, pulling out a ball of socks. He pulled the small box out of it and sighed. He'd had it for weeks now, looking for the right time to ask. And sure, they still had a year of school left, more if Sam got into the law school. But he could see his life with her. A home, a job, kids.

Sam put the ring back into the sock and shoved it back into the drawer. Suddenly that life seemed so far away it almost didn't matter.

 

 

The next three days, however, were the epitome of normal, aside from the presence of his father. There were no sudden, unexplained deaths, no animal maulings, nothing out of the ordinary.

Dean didn't try to call or see him.

"Maybe he left." Sam said at breakfast that morning. "Full moon's tonight. He said it was harder to control then."

Jessica breezed through, grabbing her travel mug of coffee from the table and kissing the top of Sam's head. "Don't forget, we're meeting everyone at the club at seven."

Sam smiled at her. "I'll be there."

They waited until she was gone, then his father sighed. "I don't think he'd give up that easy."

"I know you don't believe me, but I think he was telling the truth, Dad. He controls it the best he can. He doesn't want to hurt me."

John put his fork down and looked at him. "You know that isn't how it works. Dean may believe that, but you and I both know that he's not the same."

Sam was tired of the conversation. He was tired of thinking about it, of worrying about Dean, about his father. He got up to refill his coffee and jumped when his father's phone rang.

"Bobby." John said, standing and heading into the living room with the phone. Sam shook his head and sipped at his coffee. John came back into the room with his duffle bag in hand. He huffed and reached for his coffee cup. "Got a heads up on a werewolf attack just north of here."

He didn't have to say that they assumed it was Dean. Sam didn't ask, just stood and watched him finish his coffee. "I'll swing back by…when I'm done." John didn't look at him.

Sam considered it for a minute, then put his coffee cup down on the counter. "Don't bother." If it was Dean and their father killed him, Sam didn't want to know. If it wasn't…well, Sam didn't want to know that either. He walked with his father to the door. "I'm going to ask her to marry me." Sam said as they stood there awkwardly for a minute.

His father's face broke into a smile. "That's good, Sam. She's a special girl."

Sam nodded and exhaled. He let John pull him into a hug. "You take care, Son."

"I will Dad. Goodbye."

Sam watched him go until he couldn't see the truck anymore. He breathed in and let it out slowly. The feeling of normal settled around him. He closed the door and headed for the shower. Normal meant classes and meeting up with Jessica just off campus tonight for her best friend's birthday.

 

 

Jessica slid into his lap, her smile devious, her face flushed from alcohol and laughter. Her mouth closed over his, her tongue sliding into his mouth. "You're too quiet."

"Am I?" Sam lifted his beer and drank, then set it aside on the table, so her could put both hands on her hips. "Maybe I'm just thinking about all the ways I could ravage you…right here, in this bar…without anyone knowing." The smell of her was intoxicating and Sam pressed his face into her neck, breathing deep.

"I didn't know you were that kinky," she whispered in his ear, her hand sliding between them to rub at his cock through his jeans.

"Mmmm…keep doing that and I'll show you how kinky." Sam nipped at her ear as his cock hardened and she squirmed against him.

"Hey, Jess, quit molesting Sam, it's your shot." Josh called from the pool table.

Jessica kissed him deeply, giggling as she pulled away and headed for the pool table.

Sam grabbed his beer and sat back to watch her play. Her eyes darted to him and she made a show of bending over the table to get her shot. Sam drained his beer.

He felt him first, a hot sensation flushing through him as eyes picked him out of the crowd. Sam swallowed, glancing at Jessica and standing nervously. Dean.

He looked around the room, but didn't see his brother anywhere. Jessica came toward him after sinking the wrong ball. "Hey, babe…you okay?"

Sam nodded, letting her press up against him. He was horny, needy…he kissed her and she groaned into his mouth. "Need some air." Sam's voice was dark.

"I'll come with." Jessica tossed back the last of her drink and Sam slipped an arm around her waist as they weaved through the crowd to the door.

Once outside the club, Jessica turned, pulling both of his arms around her. She kissed up the side of his face. "Show me."

"Here?" Sam asked, though the arousal flushing through him was enough to make him not care where.

"Alley." Jessica walked backward, tugging him along.

"Dirty." Sam growled.

Her hand was on his zipper, inside his jeans even before they were swallowed by the shadows of the two buildings. Sam pressed her into the wall as she pulled him out. She leaned into the brick and lifted one leg up to his waist while her hands worked at pulling aside her panties under her skirt. Her fingers guided Sam in and she lifted her other leg.

Sam sank into her with a groan, his face nuzzling into her breasts. He shoved in, and her hand fisted in his hair. "Harder," she whispered and Sam obliged, his hips snapping in and up as she gasped out a quick orgasm. He wasn't far behind, his head falling back as he came inside her, though his cock barely softened and his arousal wasn't even slightly sated.

When he opened his eyes, all he could see was the full moon filling the sky above them.

Dean.

He was there. In the shadows. Watching.

He helped Jessica back to her feet and they both set about rearranging their clothes. Jessica kissed him. "Dirty boy."

Sam could feel his brother breathing, could taste his arousal. Dean wanted him. Badly. "You should…go inside." Sam said, smiling a little. "I need to cool off."

She raised an eyebrow. "Maybe you should stay hot and we'll blow the rest of the party. I've never seen you like that before."

Sam kissed her cheek. "Shannon would never forgive me if I took you away before she's too drunk to remember you left."

"Okay…but we aren't done yet tonight. I want some more of that."

She was barely out of sight when Sam's back tingled with the nearness of his brother. He tried to turn, but Dean slammed him into the wall, knocking the wind from his lungs. "Mine." The voice that spoke in his ear was Dean, but not…a growl. His face was pressed in against Sam's neck, sniffing at the skin.

"Dean."

Hands moved over his back and Dean's strong body pressed against him, his cock clearly hard as he shoved his hips against Sam's ass. There was a hissing intake of air. "Want you."

Sam got his hands on the wall and shoved back, getting enough room to turn before Dean was shoving him back against the brick. Sam felt sharp teeth when Dean kissed him, making him abandon resistance, because it would take only one bite, one slip of those teeth to turn him. When Dean pulled back, Sam could see he was partially changed, his hair white and long, his ears longer than they should be, his eyes all gold and black. His hands ended in claws and fur.

"I figured you'd gone." Sam said softly. He wanted to move away, the nearness of Dean's body heat was too much, and it made him want things he shouldn't want.

Dean cocked his head to the side. "Want you."

Sam nodded. "I get that. But you know--"

Dean stopped him with another kiss, this one harder, pushing Sam's head into the wall. Sam put his hands on Dean's shoulders and pushed, getting him a few inches back, but fuck was he strong. "Dean. Stop."

"Tell me you don't want me, this." Dean's voice was a little more normal, spots of green appeared in his eyes. His hand cupped Sam's cock, still hard, harder still now as Dean squeezed it. "I know you do, I can feel you…taste you."

"Dean…stop…please…" Sam was panting, his cock aching despite the fact that he'd just come.

"I can smell you Sam. I sit in that hotel room and I can smell you. I'm hungry…haven't fed in months. Need to let him out, give him what he needs." Dean closed his eyes and breathed in deep. When he opened them again they were mostly green again. "Shit." He let go and stepped back. "Fuck, Sam. I'm sorry."

Cold rushed in where Dean's heat had been. Without thinking Sam followed him, reaching for him, drawing their bodies together again. Their lips crashed together and Dean groaned, pushing them apart. "Sam."

Sam shook his head. "No, you're right, I do."

"No, you don't." Dean held him at arms length. "It's the moon and the wolf. Snap out of it."

Sam knocked his arm away and tried again, shoving Dean into the opposite wall and kissing him again. His head was still telling him this was wrong, that he didn't want this, but his body did want it and the want was overwhelming.

"Sam, I won't be able to stop myself a second time." Dean warned, the gold starting to fill his eyes.

"Sam?"

Jessica. Sam pulled back, looking over his shoulder. Any second she'd come around that corner and see them. He shook his head, getting a little clarity. "Dean…wait here."

"Sam." Dean grabbed his arm, yanked him back. "I'll be gone in the morning. If…if…You know where to find me." He let go and melted into the shadows.

Sam headed for the front of the building. He could feel when Dean was gone, the cold rushed in and he shivered.

"You okay?" Jessica asked, her face concerned.

Sam pulled his jacket closer. "You know…actually…my brother…" Sam fiddled with his phone, letting her think Dean had called him. "He needs me." His voice caught a little. "I should go see him."

She nodded. "Okay. You want me to come with?"

Sam shook his head. "Family stuff, you know? Just…stay here and enjoy your friends. I'll meet you at home later."

"Yeah? You just be careful."

Sam smiled. "He's my brother. He's not going to hurt me."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> During Sam's senior year of high school, Dean comes home after a night out and he isn't completely himself. He's sick...but when Sam calls their father to come home and help, he discovers that what's inside his brother isn't some virus, and what it wants isn't just Dean.

He was half way to the run down motel when it occurred to him that this was insane. Sam stopped, scratching at his head. The adrenaline that had fueled his rush from the club was fading, the sweat that slicked his skin cooling in the chill of the night. 

He sat down on a bus stop bench near a park and breathed in deep of the cool air. Dean was right. He didn't want…and he'd been ready to give it to him. Sam rubbed a hand over his face. He'd been ready to give up everything he'd work for, everything he had thought he believed in.

And Dean had stopped him. Sam had seen in his eyes how hard it was. Despite everything Dean was, he had now given Sam all the proof he needed to know his brother wasn't evil. He'd felt the strength in his brother's body. 

Dean could have forced him, could have bitten him and broken him and taken him. And he didn't, even when Sam offered himself up.

Sam pulled his phone out of his pocket and inhaled deeply. Clearly, whatever Dean had done to him all those years ago worked against him whenever they were together. Sam couldn't afford to see him again, not when Dean wasn't in full control.

He held the piece of paper with his brother's number in one hand and dialed the phone with the other. "Sam?"

Sam licked his lips. "I…I'm not coming, Dean."

There was a hesitation, just Dean breathing hard. "Good. Yeah. That's good, Sam. I don't want to…I don't want to hurt you."

"I know." Sam said. He stood and started walking back toward home. "I believe you, okay? I can't promise I can convince Dad…but I believe you."

"Yeah?"

Sam smiled, but the smile faded fast when he realized he wasn't alone. "Dean, I may need to call you back."

"What's wrong?"

"I think I'm about to get jumped."

He whirled, just in time to block the two by four that had been aimed at the back of his skull. His phone skittered away and Sam could hear Dean's voice, but put it out of his mind as the two guys he thought he was dealing with became four.

"I don't have anything, guys." Sam said, trying to watch all four of them at once. "The phone…it's a freebie though…and maybe twenty bucks in my wallet. You want it, it's yours."

"Maybe we don't want your money, college boy," the one nearest him responded. "Maybe we just want to kick your ass."

Two of them came at him then, the two by four connecting this time with his upper arm. Sam screamed as the nails in the end of it sank into his skin and turned quickly in an effort to wrench the make shift weapon out of the attacker's hands. It only put him in reach of one of the others who landed a solid punch to his jaw. Sam staggered and tried to square up, but they came at him fast.

The nails dug into his thigh, then his stomach. He got a few good shots in himself, but it was easy to see he was badly out numbered. He staggered back toward the trees that lined the park, figuring that the darkness could help him escape. His body started to tingle, and for a second Sam was afraid the last punch to his face had caused more damage than he thought. A low growl rumbled through him. 

Dean.

The bigger of the four shoved Sam into the trunk of the tree and Sam's head slammed into the wood, but just as fast, he was gone. There was screaming and the sound of a body hitting the ground.

Sam got his eyes open, in time to see white fur and teeth, blood…and a second body hit the ground. The other two were running, yelling.

Dean was breathing heavily as he turned, his form already reverting to mostly human, though his eyes glowed eerie and golden as he rounded on Sam. He was still growling, though the tone had changed from fury to possessive and Sam swallowed hard, fighting the rising arousal that came with Dean's presence.

"Mine." Dean growled, pushing Sam into the tree. He sniffed up Sam's torso, stopping where there was blood. His nostrils flared. "Mine." His head snapped up, his eyes wild. He licked his lips and Sam could almost feel Dean forcing the wolf back. "Sam." 

"I'm…okay." Sam pressed a hand in against the one wound in his side. He was going to need to get the bleeding stopped.

Fingers that still had a fair amount of fur and some scary looking claws on them brushed the bruise forming on his face. "Go." Dean was looking at the guy on the ground now. "Don't watch."

"Dean…" Sam wanted to pull Dean to him, kiss him. He shook his head. Dean shoved him away and Sam staggered toward the road. He heard a sickening crunch behind him and it stopped him. He turned to look, but Dean was gone when he did, leaving the stupid bastard on the ground with his chest ripped open and his heart gone.

He shook his head, but the alcohol and the blood loss had him woozy. Before he'd even gotten to the sidewalk, his knees gave out and he blacked out.

 

Fire. The very first thing he's fully aware of is that he's burning up, and everything hurt. Everything, even the hairs on his arms and legs hurt. He breathed in slowly, and smells…musty sheets, blood, sweat, ozone, chlorine. Dean.

He doesn't have to look to know Dean is there…hovering in the corner near the rickety air conditioner that is trying desperately to cool the room. He opens his eyes slowly and even the dark of the room he can see Dean sitting against the wall, his knees drawn up to his chest, watching Sam intensely.

Sam swallowed and moved, despite his muscles screaming at him. His throat was dry and his hand scraped across stiff sheets toward Dean. 

Dean didn't move, his eyes glowing eerie bright in the dark.

"What happened?" Sam finally asked, his voice cracking. 

"You were attacked." Dean said softly.

Sam nodded. He remembered that. "You were bleeding pretty bad when I found you." 

Dean still hadn't moved. Sam tried to sit up and partially succeeded, his head pounding. His arm and stomach were bandaged. He was naked under the sheets, his cock hard. "It's the pheromones, Sam." Dean's voice is wrecked, like it had been that night, when he'd crawled home wounded and already starting to become what he was now. 

There was a bandage on Sam's shoulder, just above his heart. He didn't remember being wounded there. He looked at Dean, his eyes wide. "What did you do?"

Dean shook his head. "Damn fucking claws. Couldn't…couldn't turn back when I found you…had to drag you part way."

Sam started to move and Dean winced. "I…you need to go. It took everything I have not to hurt you, take you."

Sam could see then that there was blood on Dean too, on his face, his hands. "Let me look at you." Sam took a step closer and Dean stood suddenly, naked and hard, his cock jabbing out toward Sam like a weapon. Sam licked his lips. His own cock was aching, he had a strong urge to slide to his knees and nuzzle into Dean's groin, lick him…He cradled his cock and took another step. 

"Don't touch me unless you mean it Sam. I don't think I can…" Dean took a step toward him now.

Sam wasn’t sure which one of them made the last step, but suddenly Dean's hand was on his neck, his mouth covering Sam's. His eyes flashed gold-green and back to gold and his chest vibrated against Sam's with a deep, barely audible growl.

His grip was nearly painful, and his kiss was harsh, teeth scraping over Sam's lip. He pulled back, panting and Sam put his forehead on Dean's shoulder, offering his neck…though some part of him screamed at him to stop, to run. Dean shoved and Sam was falling back onto the bed, Dean's hands running over him, claws scratching at his skin. 

It only added to Sam's arousal though and he tried to drag Dean closer, wanting more of him. Dean snarled, his teeth bared. He shoved Sam down, straddling him and it took Sam a minute to realize why. He'd never really thought about how this would work, but as Dean's cock dragged through the crack of his ass, he suddenly knew and he gripped the bed under him, torn between fear and need. 

Dean's hands gripped his hips, claws digging into his skin, but that was only the start of the pain as his cock breached Sam's ass. The fire in his skin was worse, his body wet with sweat and he could hear himself yelling into the mattress, but only as a distant sound that wasn't real.

Grunting, Dean fucked him hard and fast, his toes digging into Sam's calves as he neared climax. Sam could feel him shifting, and he bowed his head forward, arching his back as his own cock started to empty.

Teeth caught on the muscle where neck and shoulder meet and Sam screamed as they broke skin, suddenly wanting to escape, to run and knowing he was never running again. His vision grayed out as his orgasm finished and darkness swallowed him as the weight of his brother left him.

 

The smell of coffee greeted him, barely masking the smell of blood and come, as he rolled over and for a minute he was confused. He opened his eyes to find a hand filled with a take out cup of coffee.

Sam took it, mumbling thanks and he sat slowly.

Dean didn't look at him, just took his own coffee to the window.

The room was a shambles. Sam didn't remember a lot past that first time, the bite. His hand snaked up to the place where Dean had bitten him to find it scabbed over, nearly healed. 

His other wounds were nearly gone too. He was sore in ways he had never known before and shaky, hungry.

Dean nodded, sipping at his coffee. "I got something for that too. Drink your coffee."

Sam took a sip. Hot and bitter and strong, he drank more before setting it aside. "What…what time is it?"

"Almost noon." Dean sighed. He drank from his coffee, then turned away from the window. On the table was a small cooler. "You need to eat, and then you need some more sleep. We can decide what we're doing after…when you're stronger."

His hand fell on the cooler and he glanced in Sam's direction without really looking at him. "How do you feel?"

"Strange." Sam responded. "We…made a mess."

Dean almost chuckled. "Do you remember any of it?"

Sam shook his head and attempted to stretch and stand. His muscles protested, but held him. "Bits…scraps of…sex and…fighting."

Dean snorted. "I'm not sure there was a difference." He turned then, his eyes scraping up Sam's body. "You're healing at least. That's good." He lifted the cooler. "Come sit. You need to eat. And you aren't going to like it."

"Dean…" Sam could smell the blood. He knew that there was a human heart in the cooler. A human heart that Dean expected him to consume.

"I know. Just, trust me. Your body is going to thank you."

Sam sat in the chair and Dean opened the cooler. The smell of it was potent and Sam found himself leaning in to smell it, his mouth open and salivating. "You don't have to eat it all." Dean said. "Just a few bites."

Sam's body flushed with desire…not sexual desire, exactly…but lust for the sustenance of the heart. He lifted it out of the cooler, vaguely aware that his body was shifting, that his fingers had grown claws.

"That's it, Sammy." Dean whispered. "Let him out a little bit."

"Dean." Sam's voice was deep, rumbling out of him. He held the heart up, his mouth opening further to accommodate it. Sharp teeth punctured the organ and a burst of blood coated his tongue, racing down his throat. Instinctively he knew he wanted it to be warm, but the cold would do. He chewed and swallowed and bit again and again until the heart was half gone and his stomach wasn't aching with hunger anymore.

Dean kissed him suddenly and Sam lurched forward, sharing the taste of the blood and stumbling back toward the bed. "You did good, Sam." Dean offered as they rolled into the middle of the bed. 

"I can feel it." Sam murmured, closing his eyes. "Power, strength…"

"Yes…he's inside you, a part of you." Dean laid back on the bed, covering his face with his hands. "Do you hate me?" He asked a few minutes later.

Sam wondered if maybe he should. He hadn't wanted this…but then, neither had Dean and at least this way Dean didn't have to be alone. "No." Sam said, leaning in to lick at the blood he had smeared on Dean's face. 

"Sleep Sam. Your body needs time." Dean pulled him down to lay with his head on Dean's chest. Sam listened to his heart racing, slowing. It was comforting, like something out of his childhood, safety…comfort.

 

It was nearly dark. Sam's phone had been ringing for hours. Jessica was worried. He knew he should call. He forced himself out of the bed, out of Dean's arms and into the bathroom to shower. He started the water and peeled bandages off of him.

It was amazing how healed he was, considering that it hadn't even been twenty four hours since he was jumped. He climbed in under the weak spray, thankful it was at least hot.

He scrubbed at the blood and come that stuck to him, relishing the feeling as water slicked away the dried on sweat. He ducked his head under the water, then shook it. If he didn't think too much about it, he felt mostly normal. 

That only lasted until he stepped out of the shower though. His reflection in the steamy bathroom mirror showed him how far he was from normal. His eyes were like Dean's…green flecked with gold. He stared, trying to figure out the trigger to make the change start. So far he'd only manage while he and Dean were fighting or fucking or while he ate.

"Control comes with time." Dean said, making Sam look up. He was leaning on the door jamb. "You hungry?"

Sam sort of frowned at him in the mirror and Dean smirked. "No. For people food. We are still people too. I was thinking Chinese."

"I should see Jessica."

Dean made a face that clearly said that wasn't a good idea. "What? Too soon?"

Dean crossed both arms. "The wolf is more in control than you are right now, Sam. And you're going to find you have two instincts. To feed and to fuck." He moved into the room, pressing Sam into the counter. "And one of those belongs to me and only me."

Sam hissed as Dean's hips ground against his, their cocks rubbing together. "Fuck." He'd lost count of the number of times they'd gone at it, grateful that the rapid healing extended to his very sore ass because once Dean got going he forgot quite quickly that Sam had been a virgin in that regard up until the night before.

"You better understand that right now, Sammy. Before we walk out that door. You belong to me now. No one touches you. No one looks at you. No one but me." His hand circled around Sam's cock and the eyes that looked into his were more gold than green.

Sam breathed through the urge to thrust his hips up and swallowed. "I know. Okay. I get it."

"I'm not sure you do." Dean leaned in, kissing him hard. "But you will." Suddenly Dean let go of him. "Get dressed. I'm hungry."

Sam had to borrow clothes from Dean, so the jeans were a little tight and nearly high waters, but at least he had boots to help disguise them. He pulled his phone out of his bloody jeans near the bed and looked at the call log. Jessica had called ten times. And their father once. "Huh."

"What?" Dean asked as they got in the car.

"Nothing…just…Dad called. Didn't leave a message though."

Dean hit his head against the seat twice. "If Dad wasn't going to kill me before, he is now." Dean said. "We should probably get out of the area, find some place to lay low for a while."

Sam nodded, but he was already dialing Jessica's number. It went to her voicemail. "Jess, I forgot tonight's your late class. Sorry I didn't call. I'm okay, I'm still with Dean. I probably will be for a few days. I'll talk to you soon. Okay. Love you."

He could feel Dean's eyes boring into him. "She expects me to say it." Sam said flinching when Dean moved to grab him and drag him across the seat.

"Mine, Sam."

Sam sighed, feeling a rumble of rebellion, but pushing it down. "I know."

 

He waited until he knew she'd be in class, letting himself into the apartment while Dean went to empty the motel and get them some food for the road. He packed clothes mostly, pulling his favorite hunting knife out of it's hiding place and shoving it into his bag. He took a couple books, a picture of him and Jess at an amusement park the summer before.

So much of his life here was…here, attached to the place and time. He crossed to the bed, stopping as the smell of her filled his senses. She'd left her night gown on the pillow. He lifted it and breathed in, feeling the wolf inside respond with desire. 

He laid on the bed, rolling in the scent, his body starting to shift. He could almost taste her. Suddenly, he sat up and fought his way out of the arousal, forcing himself back to normal. Once again his brother was right. If just the smell of her on the nightgown could reduce him to his animal state, the real thing would be more than he could handle.

He got up and grabbed his favorite jacket out of the closet and headed for the kitchen. His broken in old backpack sat on the table, his books still open as they'd been when he left to go meet up with Jessica at the bar.

He grabbed a piece of paper and scribbled a note, telling her that he loved her, but his family needed him…and if he could he'd come back one day and explain. He pulled the box out of the sock in his hand and stared at it.

With a sigh, Sam shoved the box in his pocket and grabbed his bags.

Dean was waiting at the curb, leaning against the impala. He stood as Sam approached, his nose wrinkling. "You stink like her. I thought you said she wasn't here."

Sam threw his bag in the back seat. "She isn't."

Dean was scowling, shoving Sam into the car. "What did you do, roll on the bed?" 

Sam had to admit, he liked the way Dean was looking at him, the rise of color in his face. "Maybe."

He slipped sideways and went to the passenger side of the car.

Dean didn't get in right away and when he did, he glared at Sam for a long time before he started the car. He didn't speak, just turned the radio on, AC/DC blaring at them as tires squealed.

He headed them south, down the coast, the windows open and the sea breeze soothing to the fire still burning in his skin.

They were headed into mountains when Dean turned down the radio. "Hey, lemme see your phone."

Sam pulled it out without question. Dean took it, and without even looking, tossed it out the window. He followed it with his own. "We can get new ones when we hit LA."

Sam gaped at him for a minute, but he knew Dean was probably right. If their Dad had their numbers, he could use them to track them. He wasn't really up to facing his father just yet. 

The air outside the windows was colder as they drove up into the trees. Dean turned down a gravel road, then onto a dirt one before finally pulling to a stop.

Sam turned to stare at him. "What are we doing?"

"Proving a point. Out."

Sam frowned, but did get out, watching as Dean started taking his clothes off. "What are we doing?" Sam asked again.

"If you take them off before you change, you don't rip them all to shreds when you do."

"And why are we—" Sam didn't get to finish the question, Dean leaped over the car without even touching it, half gone to wolf before he landed and grabbed Sam by the neck.

"It's time for you to understand exactly what I mean when I say you're mine, little brother."

Sam felt the echoing call of the wolf inside him, craning his neck as the change rippled through him. Dean through him away from the car and pounced at him, tearing at his clothes. "Gonna show you who's the alpha here and who's the puppy playing catch up."

Dean nipped at Sam's hips. "Teach you who's in charge."

"You talk a lot." Sam growled, grabbing at Dean's face and nipping at his lips. 

They rolled through the brush. The last of his clothes fell away and Sam felt Dean bit deep into his shoulder. He yelled, only it sounded more like a howl. 

They were both more wolf now, Sam closer to fully changed than he'd ever been. It was exhilarating and he pounced at Dean, swiping at him.

"I never really was very good with authority figures." Sam said, not sure it came out in words, but knowing by the look on Dean's face that he understood just fine. 

He nipped at Dean, who was starting to look annoyed and let the rush of adrenaline fuel him. "You wanna fuck me, Alpha Dog? You're gonna have to catch me."


End file.
